Tested: The Dark Necessities—Dalton's Tale #3

by Felicity Brandon

  Hyland—this man was Zander Hyland?

  She had heard Dalton and Connor discussing Hyland, and Saul talked about him with Connor as well, especially late at night, when they thought she was asleep. From everything she’d garnered from those calls, Hyland was not the sort of man you wanted to be taken by.

  The world seemed to stop turning as that notion reverberated.

  He was taking her—without her consent.

  Dalton unconscious beside her, this man, Hyland, was leaving with them both.

  How could Molly be so unlucky to be abducted from a second London street in broad daylight? Her chest rose and fell with panic.

  This can’t be happening. This just can’t be happening!

  The car pulled away, joining the line of traffic as terror threatened to consume her.

  “You’ve heard of me, I see?” Hyland smirked at Molly. “That’s pleasing.”

  “What do you want with me?” she snapped, hoping her voice conveyed more confidence than she was feeling. “And what about Dalton? What have you done to him?” Molly turned back to glance at Dalton’s battered face, her brow furrowing.

  “He’ll be fine,” Hyland assured her. “In fact, I’ll even go easier on him if you’re a good girl.”

  “I’m not doing anything you say,” she promised him, pressing herself against Dalton’s body. Molly shot a glare in his direction. She was no one’s good girl, apart from Connor’s.

  “Well, that’s a shame,” he replied, tilting his head. “I do so prefer not to have to take everything by force, but we can play it your way, beautiful.”

  He laughed at that, joined a moment later by the two men in the front of the car.

  “As it turns out, I have just the place for you until you change your mind.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Delilah

  She’d been so happy when Connor had passed the phone to her. Somehow, after all the days in captivity, Delilah could barely believe she was free, and now, her lover was on the other end of the line, waiting to speak to her.

  “Dalton?” Her voice was shaky, and she glanced away from Connor, staring out of the window.

  “Hey, firecracker.”

  Delilah smiled at the sound of his voice—God, she’d missed that voice. There was a time she thought she’d never hear it again, and now its dulcet tone washed over like a stiff drink.

  “How are you? Are you okay, Delilah?”

  “I am.” Reflexively, she met Connor’s eyes again. “I am okay, but what about you—should you be out of the hospital?”

  Dalton sighed. “Don’t listen to Connor,” he told her. “I’m fine. I just need to rest, and I can do that just fine at home with you.”

  Heat bloomed in her cheeks at the thought of being back with him.

  “I’m not sure how much rest I can promise, sir.”

  She no longer cared that Connor was watching or about the warmth in her cheeks. Let the world know she was crazy about this man. By the sounds of things, she had nearly lost him, yet somehow, they were still together.

  It was a miracle.

  Dalton laughed at her reply. “Well, how about some rest then?”

  Delilah sucked her lip between her teeth. “That sounds fair. I can’t wait to see you.”

  “Me neith— Hey!”

  Instinctively, she held the device away from her face.

  Connor’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”

  “I-I’m not sure,” she stammered, but her heart was thumping inside her chest in response, telling her what she already knew—something was wrong.

  “Hey, get off me!”

  Dalton’s voice was aggressive, and Delilah knew he wasn’t talking to her.

  “D-Dalton?” She had to say something, but she didn’t know what to say.

  Dalton was in trouble—she could sense it—and she was stuck in another car, completely unable to help him.

  Again.

  “I’ve had just about enough of you fucking Reillys.”

  Her blood ran cold at the sound of the voice. It was one she knew—one she had heard only too well over the last week—Zander fucking Hyland.

  Delilah’s throat dried as she covered the receiver with her free hand.

  “I think it’s Hyland,” she whispered to Connor.

  “With Dalton?” Connor’s brow rose as though he didn’t believe her.

  “Yes,” she hissed, her heartbeat frantic as she tuned back into the noises from the other end of the phone.

  “I heard your brother just took what belonged to me, so it’s opportune we should bump into you.”

  A wave of dread washed over her.

  Oh God. It was definitely Hyland. He was there with Dalton, and no doubt, he wanted revenge for losing her.

  “Fuck you.” Dalton’s reply floated down the phone line. “Delilah was never yours.”

  There were no more words, only the terrible thud of flesh hitting flesh and her belly furled into knots at the sound. Delilah recognized it without needing clarification—the sound of a fist colliding with skin, or worse, the noise as another part of someone bounced off something hard.

  Oh, fuck. Dalton.

  “Who’s this?” Hyland’s odious tone vibrated at her. “Let me guess, the hero brother, Connor, or perhaps, the light of my life, Delilah?”

  “Leave him alone, Zander!” she snapped, her voice full of venom, although she didn’t know why.

  Her tone was irrelevant, ineffectual—just as Zander had always made it.

  His deep, cruel laughter filled the connection, then there was nothing but the void as the line abruptly ended. The phone slipped from her fingers into her lap, and she lifted her chin to meet Connor’s concerned gaze.

  “That was Hyland?”

  “Yes.” Genuine panic coursed through her veins now. She pulled in a deep breath. “I don’t know how, but he has Dalton, and he’s hurting him. I heard it. I…” Delilah’s hands rose to cover her mouth as a surge of nausea swelled from her belly.

  “What did he say?” Connor reached for the device, which had slipped from Delilah’s leg and tapped on the screen.

  “It doesn’t matter what he said.” She shook her head. “Isn’t it obvious, Connor? He’s fucked off I’m gone, and he’s going to take it out on Dalton.”

  Connor’s expression was ashen as her words finally seemed to register.

  “Oh, shit.” His fingers trembled. “If he has Dalton, that means he has Molly, too.”

  She blinked at him. Crap. Delilah hadn’t even thought about poor Molly.

  “Connor, we have to go after them. We have to do something.”

  Delilah eyed his evident terror, watching the moment it morphed into something darker, something without mercy, which caused a shiver up the length of her spine.

  “We’re going to do something, alright.” Pressing the intercom, he stared straight at the driver. “Change of plan.” Connor’s voice was peculiarly even. “We’re heading over to visit Hyland.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” The driver glanced back over his shoulder.

  Connor scowled at the response. “The bastard has my woman and my brother, Kenny. I’m absolutely sure it’s a great idea.”

  “What about Saul? Something like this should go via Saul first.”

  “Fuck Saul.” There was fire burning in Connor’s green eyes. “What is there to discuss?”

  “You should speak to him?” Delilah broke the strained silence, which fell over the interior of the car. “I mean, we could use some help, couldn’t we?”

  Connor grimaced. It was clear he knew she was right, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

  “Listen.” Delilah edged up the seat as far as the safety belt would allow. “I get it, Connor, I really do. I want to rip the balls off Zander fucking Hyland for the things he’s done to me and now, Dalton.” She hesitated, trying not to imagine what had been happening when the sickening thud had reverberated down the phone line. “Let’s just say I understand, but th
ere’s no point going there unprepared.”

  He blew out a breath, his right hand balling into a large fist, which he slammed into the seat in front.

  “Shit! How has this happened? If only Molly had just kept him at the hospital. If only I’d gone with her. If only...”

  “You didn’t have to rescue me,” Delilah finished for him.

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” Connor’s gaze flitted to her. “I’m not sorry I came for you today, Delilah. I did it for you and for Dalton.”

  She sighed—fat lot of good it had done them both.

  “Listen, thanks, but it’s evident if you didn’t have to chase after me, you’d have been there for Molly and Dalton.”

  “That’s bull.” His tone was emphatic, but Delilah knew it wasn’t bull. Her words had been true. This whole damn thing was because of her.

  She glanced around the leather interior. “Do you have any weapons in this thing?”

  “There’s a basic arsenal in the trunk.”

  Delilah twisted to look at him. She’d almost forgotten she was still essentially only wearing his jacket but didn’t matter anymore.

  “Which means what?”

  “A few automatic weapons and a couple of handguns. That kind of thing.”

  She nodded. Delilah wasn’t great with guns, but she had seen enough wielded to learn how to handle the damn things, and she sure as hell knew how powerful they made the handler.

  “Ring Saul and see if he can help.” Delilah had meant it as a suggestion, but it didn’t come out that way. “This will be a lot easier with support, but...” Her throat dried at the reality of where her ideas were taking her—back to the brink.

  Right back to the hellish pit, Connor had just pulled her from, yet it didn’t matter. She couldn’t condemn Molly to that existence—a life of being Hyland’s personal slut. Molly wasn’t a redhead, she was a brunette, and Hyland had always been rather partial to a brunette.

  Connor’s brow rose. “But what?”

  “But if we can’t get it, we do it alone.”

  Kenny shook his head from the front seat. “You must be fucking crazy, lady.”

  “Her name is Delilah.” Connor’s tone was cutting. “And she’s not crazy. She just has more balls than you.”

  She laughed at Connor’s summation. “Maybe,” she said with a shrug. “All I know is, I’ve been putting up with Hyland’s shit for too long.” Delilah sighed. “Too fucking long. And I’m not doing it anymore. He’s not having me, and he’s not having Dalton and Molly, either.”

  He grinned at her. “I like the way you think, Delilah.”

  “My psychotic death-wish, you mean?”

  Connor snorted. “Not quite, more like your no-nonsense attitude.”

  Their gazes locked for a moment, his green eyes drilling into hers, and at that moment, Connor looked so much like his older brother, she wanted to cry.

  Wanted to—but she didn’t dare.

  There was no time for tears. Better she saved that emotion for the place it needed to be directed—namely the trigger of whatever gun she’d use to finish off the son of a bitch.

  “Call Saul.” Her voice was softer. “Let’s find out where we stand.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Molly

  For the third time in her life, Molly found herself being driven away by a man she barely knew, having been forcibly taken from the road. It was insane. She wanted to declare this was the most terrifying moment of her whole life, but as that notion flitted through her mind, she realized it was untrue. She had been more afraid the evening Connor had captured her—of course, she recalled nothing about that journey as he’d kept her drugged the entire trip. She’d also been filled with dread the night he’d found her wandering the desolate path by the forest—a knot of tension furled in her belly at the memory. Christ, yes, she’d been pulverized by fear. By comparison, this was nothing.

  This Zander Hyland was no one.

  And she had Dalton this time.

  Even unconscious and weak, he was still there—by her side.

  He was a Reilly.

  And if Molly knew anything about Reilly men—they never gave up, and they never backed down.

  “I think you’ll change your mind when you see what I have in store for you.” Hyland’s lips curled into that cruel smirk again.

  She glanced at Dalton, praying he would just open one eye and confirm what she felt in her soul—he was okay, really.

  He was just weary.

  Beaten, but not down and out.

  “Start by telling me your name.”

  She shot Hyland an uncompromising glare. “It doesn’t matter what my name is,” she spat. “I’m not yours, and I’ll never be yours.”

  “I like your accent and your spirit,” Hyland said with a chuckle. “There’s nothing wrong with that. So long as you know when to surrender, when to cede.”

  Molly pressed her lips into a hard line. She would never freaking surrender to Hyland. Her skin crawled at the thought alone.

  Turning toward Dalton again, her brow knitted. Dalton, please. She sent the plea to him mentally as though, somehow, the process would lull him back to life. Dalton, wake up.

  “There’s no point looking to him for help,” Hyland remarked dryly. “Loverboy will be out for most of the journey, or even longer if I’m lucky.” Hyland paused. “Except he isn’t your lover, is he?” He slid up the leather seat in Molly’s direction. “Dalton is with the lovely whore, Delilah, which means you can’t be with him, too. Unless he’s officially the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.”

  Molly inhaled, wanting to tell him to go and fuck himself, yet the fire in his eyes stopped her. Being with Connor had strengthened her confidence, despite their dynamic. Choosing to surrender to his will gave her strength—it was her choice, after all. It meant Molly had become sassier and more willful than she ever was when she lived in the United States, and she loved that change. She loved that emboldened version of herself. But something about this guy extinguished that part of her, apparently, without even needing to try. Molly could tell he was trouble. He was dangerous, and her instincts kicked in, telling her to keep quiet—to stay alive.

  “Tell me.” He leaned even closer, pushing her back against Dalton’s limp body. “Tell me I’m right. You’re not with him, are you?”

  Panic pinballed in her head while she tried to decide how to play this. Should she pretend to be Dalton’s girlfriend? Would that mean a better or worse outcome for her in the long run? Her belly clenched painfully at the concept of what either of those scenarios might look like.

  “No.” She pushed the word out in a whisper, still unsure if she had made the right call.

  “Good.” Hyland reached for her, and Molly eyed his hand’s approach with terror as though it was a grenade about to explode in her face. “That’s good.” His fingers found the side of her face, brushing the loose strands of her hair from her eyes in the way Connor used to do.

  Connor.

  The thought of her master filled her mind, though as Hyland eased her tresses away, there was nothing Connor could do for her now, not this time. Right now, even Dalton couldn’t help.

  This time, Molly had to manage on her own.

  “Please don’t.” Her voice was weaker than she’d hoped. “Please, don’t touch me.”

  “Shhh.” Hyland’s dark gaze darted to her. “Don’t speak. Just let me look at you.”

  She pulled in a shaky breath, wanting desperately to flick his hand away, yet too afraid to do so.

  “You were with Dalton.” Hyland’s gaze narrowed as he presumably toyed with the idea. “And we know he’s been in hospital until today, which means you must be someone pretty close to him. Someone he trusted to help him in his hour of need.”

  The deep sense of dread, latent for so long, filled up the air around her, making it difficult to take another breath.

  “Definitely too young to be his mother…” Hyland ran his tongue over his teeth before he co
ntinued. “And we know there’s no Reilly sister, so… who does that leave? Who are you, beautiful?”

  She shuddered under the feathery weight of his touch. “It doesn’t matter who I am.”

  “Oh, but it does.” Hyland’s response was immediate. “It matters a great deal. You’re either nothing—a nobody—and someone I can keep and use for my own personal entertainment, or you’re somebody very special indeed.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Hyland grinned. “Yes, you do.” His finger grazed a line to her chin. “Whoever you are, you’re nobody’s fool.”

  “Please.” She was begging again. Molly hated, after all this time, she was reduced to begging again—not the fun, kinky, consensual sort which would ultimately lead to her pleasure, but this cold, chilling type that sucked the oxygen from the vehicle.

  “Please, don’t hurt me.”

  The errant expression she’d noticed earlier flashed in Hyland’s gaze.

  “That depends, doesn’t it?”

  “On what?”

  “On who you are, pretty. On what you can do for me.”

  Oh God. Cold, disturbing dread furled within her like a living, breathing beast.

  What should she do?

  What the fuck should she do to keep herself safe?

  To keep herself alive?

  “I’m Molly.”

  In the end, the confession slipped from her with no resistance, and he drew away with evident bewilderment.

  “Molly?” Hyland laughed. “Molly who?”

  “Molly Clary.”

  He gaped at her, illustrating what she’d suspected from the start. Molly was nothing to him, meant nothing to Hyland’s organization. They hadn’t even heard of her.

  “And how do you know Dalton, Molly Clary?”

  Hyland’s gaze flashed knowingly as though he was daring her to defy him on this one, pertinent point. Molly gasped, knowing this was it—the moment of real decision. The one where she’d have to choose between telling the truth and seeing where that got her or lying and riding the pretense.

  “I’m…” She hesitated, the uncertainty temporarily paralyzing. “I’m with someone he knows.”